I Was a Dropout Who Couldn’t Use Magic for 16 Years, but Then I Remembered My Past Life as a Scientist and Became OP in Another World - Chapter 2

I woke up in a bed.

At first, I couldn’t quite grasp what was going on, but once I felt the bandage wrapped around my head, I recalled falling down the stairs and losing consciousness.

However, that wasn’t the most pressing issue.

The room that should’ve been familiar to me now seemed completely foreign.

Even though I’d been living here for 16 years, it felt like I was looking at someone else’s room.

I scanned the room and found it strange that there were no electrical appliances whatsoever. No lights. No TV. No air conditioner. No computer, phone, or game console. The only things in the room were old-fashioned wooden furniture and a lamp that wasn’t plugged into anything.

I had never once thought it strange before.

“Anyway, how long have I been out…?”

I muttered to myself as I looked out the window.

Through the glass, I could see the soft, red-yellow glow of dawn breaking.

“I’m pretty sure I fell right after breakfast. So, I must have been unconscious for at least a full day…”

Clank.

Just as I was trying to piece things together, the door to my room creaked open, interrupting my thoughts. A girl in a maid outfit peeked in with a look of concern on her face.

“Oh! Y-you’re awake, Ronnie-sama…”

It was a girl of about 13 or 14, with brown hair and distinctive freckles on her cheeks. She spoke hesitantly as she entered the room.

“Carla, huh.”

She was one of the few servants who still treated me with courtesy, even though I was the good-for-nothing eldest son. It might have been largely because she’d only started working recently.

“A-are you really okay to get up? Does your head still hurt? U-um, there was so much blood… the staircase looked… well, it was a mess…”

“There’s a bit of pain, but I think it’s just a cut. Nothing serious.”

“O-oh, I see… Well, that’s a relief…”

While saying that, Carla hesitantly moved closer to me, holding a cloth to clean with and a fresh bandage in her right hand.

“How long was I out?”

“Huh? What do you mean? Me? I always sleep exactly eight hours…”

“I’m not asking about your sleep. How long was I unconscious after falling down the stairs?”

“Oh! I-I’m sorry… Wait, um… ‘I’…?”

Carla tilted her head at an odd part of my question.

Ah, right. Up until now, I had always referred to myself as boku—the polite, formal way of saying “I.” But now, using ore, the more casual and masculine form, felt more natural. Still, I didn’t feel like correcting myself.

“U-um, let’s see… You were unconscious for about three days, I think. You didn’t wake up at all during that time.”

“Three days, huh. No wonder I’m starving.”

“Yes! Of course, I’ll prepare something right away! D-do you have an appetite? How about a sandwich?”

“A sandwich is fine, but could you change my bandages first?”

“O-oh, yes! I’m so sorry about that. I’ll change them right away!”

“Thanks.”

Carla hurriedly reached for the bandage on my head, her movements jittery with nervousness.

Three days, though—that was surprising.

To me, it felt like I had blinked, and the next moment, I was here. Yet, in real time, 70 hours had passed.

As Carla changed my bandages, I flexed my right hand, opening and closing it a few times. There was no pain or numbness.

Which meant the only real change was the strange fusion of memories in my head.

I had suffered a concussion and lost consciousness. That much was clear. And that seemed to have triggered this strange phenomenon.

I had never believed in things like past lives before. It all seemed like an urban legend. But now, I had no choice but to accept it.

At this moment, I was both a 16-year-old boy named Ronnie F. Narazario and a 28-year-old physicist named Yoichi Yamada.

I could clearly recall all 28 years of Yoichi Yamada’s memories. I remembered my parents’ names, the elementary school I attended, the university I got into, and even how and where I died.

There was no way this was just some illusion or delusion.

Yet, at the same time, the 16 years I had lived as Ronnie F. Narazario were still undeniably real. It was like seeing two worlds layered on top of each other.

It was pure occult.

But when it’s happening to you, you can’t help but feel like there must be some logical explanation for it…

“All done! H-how does it feel? Too tight?”

While I was lost in thought, Carla had finished wrapping the bandage. She leaned in close, peering at me with concern.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks.”

“From what I could see, the bleeding seems to have stopped, so once the wound closes up a little more, you should be able to take a bath if you like.”

“Ah, sorry. Do I smell? I should’ve changed the bandages myself.”

“N-no! That’s not what I meant at all! I-I just meant… um, Ronnie-sama…?”

“Hm?”

“A-are you really okay? I mean, you did hit your head pretty hard. Even if the wound heals, there could be… you know, other aftereffects…”

“Do I look strange to you?”

“W-well, not strange, but… um… You just seem a little… different from your usual self… I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by that…”

Carla stammered, breaking into a sweat with an exaggerated reaction.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. By the way—”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as I spoke, pulling the blanket off my lap and sitting up.

“Huh?”

Carla seemed a little startled by my sudden movement.

—

“Even for a useless son like me, I should probably report to Father that I’m safe.

Where is he right now?”